Maisie Lind and the Last Heir
by okejmaja
Summary: Maisie Lind had always seen herself as quite regular. Mediocre, even. Sure, she excelled in class, but nowhere else it seemed. Having lost her mother at a very young age, Maisie grew up struggling to find peace. Will her final year at Hogwarts finally bring just that? Or will the insufferable James Potter find, yet another way, to make her life more difficult than it has to be?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one: _The Unexpected_

Maisie Lind had grown up thinking that miracles belonged in books and films — that magic equaled finding a wardrobe that led to a faraway land of talking animals and endless winter. The closest magic Maisie had ever encountered was watching an old woman hold the hand of an old man, looking into his eyes with so much affection it physically warmed Maisie. That was until she, one morning six years ago, woke up to a letter inviting her to Hogwarts.

That very letter, and the six other letters inviting her back, were carefully stored in a very worn-looking etui she had, supposedly, inherit from her nameless father.

" _When are you leaving_?"

The small voice startled Maisie. She was seated on her bed, going through her old Hogwarts letters as if to remind herself that her being a witch was, still, not a made-up dream. The source of the question came from the direction of her bedroom door, that she had apparently left open. Caspian, a buck-toothed ten year old boy afraid of his shadow, looked into her room shyly. Out of all the children coming and going from the orphanage, Caspian was the only one Maise had grown to love. Which made matters worse.

"What are you still doing up?" she asked softly, with a smile that told him that she wasn't upset with him.

It was important, Maisie had learned, to be very kind and encouraging towards the young boy — something sister Vern explicitly was not. To any of the children at St. Angor's. Which, Maisie reckoned, contributed greatly to her gratefulness at having been born a witch, making it possible to escape sister Vern for most of the year. However, everyone had not been born with that privilege.

"I wanted to, um," Caspian hesitantly entered Maisie's bedroom, looking down at his feet. "To say goodbye before you leave again."

"Come here," Maisie said, stretching her arms out to embrace him in one of the rarest things to ever happen inside the walls of _St. Angor's Home for Displaced Children:_ a comforting hug. "I'll write you every week, if you want."

Holding onto her tightly, Caspian nodded his head against her shoulder.

"Could I come with you this time, do you think?" Caspian asked in a quiet voice that, despite the inevitable, held hope.

Every year since Caspian arrived to St. Angor's four years ago, Maisie had been asked that very question. Even so, her heart broke just as much as the first time.

"Not this time, Cas. I'm sorry."

Caspian did not acknowledge her reply more than just tightening his hold around her waist. Giving the boy a kiss on the crown of his head, Maisie knew that the rest of the packing she had planned for tonight was going to have to be pushed to tomorrow morning.

"Shall we do a quick visit to Narnia, hm?" Maisie asked and smiled down at him. Sniffling, Caspian nodded and released her, climbing up on the bed beside her.

Conveniently — and foreseened — Maisie had placed the heavy book containing all of C. S Lewis' seven books on her night stand. As Caspian snuggled up beside her, Maisie leafed through the pages. When she arrived to the first chapter of the fourth book, Maisie began reading the same words she had read a million times before. The story about the prince that Caspian longed to live up to. Despite his desperate attempts to stay awake, Caspian soon fell asleep to the words of magic. Ironically, the idea that brought him comfort was what kept Maisie away from him, thus causing him discomfort.

She felt selfish, now that Caspian was in the picture. Her first year of Hogwarts had been joyous, a dream come true. Then, the summer leading up to her second year, Caspian arrived and the feeling of guilt balanced with the feeling of pure joy at the prospect of leaving St. Angor's. It had even prompted her to look up the ancient school's statutes in hope of finding something that would allow an under-age muggle to stay with her throughout the term. Of course, she came up empty.

The magic flowing through her veins were, as cliché as it sounded, both a blessing and a curse, she reckoned. A guilty-pleasure, even. Which is why she slept restlessly beside one of the few people she truly cared for, knowing that tomorrow would bring a selfish joy and a devastating loss once more.

Before the sun had risen, Maisie had carried the sleeping Caspian back to his room. Had sister Vern found his bed empty this morning, Maisie would have been immediately blamed, which would cause a harsher punishment to Caspian. Sister Vern, despite her occupation as head of an orphanage, hated children. Even more so, she hated unnatural children — which put Maisie and everyone she associated with on top of the list of people to be extra nasty to.

Sneaking back to her bedroom, Maisie went straight to open the small window looking out over the field of withering meadow mats. Growing up, that field had been one of the few beauties Maisie associated with St. Angor's. She would even risk inevitable consequences — picking bouquets of meadow mats and hiding them in her room — in order to have some of the beauty close at hand. But Maisie had not opened the window for the flowers. No, she had done so for the merlin falcon who was patiently waiting for Maisie to let her inside. Almud, the merlin, was her longest companion. Even before knowing she knew she was a witch, Maisie had formed a relationship with the elegant creature. The first time they met was eleven years ago, shortly after she arrived to St. Angor's. Autumn had just arrived and the leaves, much like her overall mood, had fallen.

All the other children were running around, playing games out on the field whilst Maisie was strolling beside the forest located behind the old church turned orphanage. She remembers how absolutely devastated she had been — sister Vern had proved to be a very nasty guardian and none of the kids talked to her because of an incident involving Maisie ending up on the roof (in an attempt at escaping sister Vern's spanking, Maisie had run through the stone corridors when suddenly, she was sitting on the steep roof without explanation). On top of all that, she was missing her mum excruciatingly much.

It had been after the first tears ran down her cheeks that Almud appeared. Perched on one of the firs, Almud had uttered a short chip that captured her attention. Looking up, Maisie watched as the elegant creature stared at her with relentless eyes. She froze, watching him in awe, afraid that if she moved a muscle, she would frighten him.

Disappointment became her when he spread his wings and left the branch. Soon, however, she found herself wide-eyed with fear, instead. Flying towards her, the bird eyed her with determined eyes and, going purely on instinct, Maisie raised her hands over her head. That action would come to prove useless, because the bird had not been determined to harm her. Instead, it found a place on her left shoulder where it calmly sat. It took Maisie about ten minutes before she dared to move. Another ten to bravely lift her hand and stroke him. After that, they formed an unbreakable bond. There had been no doubt, five years later, that the animal she wanted to bring with her to Hogwarts was Almud.

"Ready?" Maisie asked the bird who was, like many times before, perched on her shoulder.

With an agreeing coo, the bird spread its wings and willingly flew into the large cage placed on the bed. Maisie did not enjoy seeing Almud in the cage, but there was just no other way. Almud refused to leave her side — she tried to convince him to fly next to the train her second year, to no avail — and they did not allow birds to roam free on the Hogwarts Express. Maisie imagined she felt more uncomfortable with Almud in the cage than he himself did.

With one hand holding her her trunk and the other carrying Almud, Maisie exited her room and headed downstairs. It was too early for anyone to be up, which she was grateful for, so she carefully tried to take her leave in the most quiet manner possible. Quite satisfied with herself for making no noise, Maise reached the hall. However, her satisfaction was short-lived as she saw the person that loathed her the most block the front door.

"I don't know how many times I have told you that it is against the rules to have sleepovers in your rooms, Miss Lind," sister Vern said coldly, her dark blue eyes narrowing on Maisie.

"I'm sorry, sister," Maisie said, still a bit startled at not being the only one awake. "It won't happen again."

"I know it won't," sister Vern said and the assured, almost pleased tone the older woman adopted put Maisie off. "Tell me, Miss Lind, are you aware of the laws in this great country of ours?"

"I imagine not, sister," Maisie replied. "There are quite a few, you see."

Maisie's cheek was visibly not appreciated. It never was.

"At the age of sixteen, one is allowed to acquire a residence. This, Miss Lind," sister Vern's eyes were glinting in a way that Maisie had never seen before. "Means that you are no longer welcome to stay here, since you no longer need our care."

"Sister," Maisie said, frowning and feeling her stomach turning. "I don't- I don't have the money to buy an apartment, you know this, I—"

"That," sister Vern cut off sharply. "Is not our concern."

A silence settled in the hall. Maisie was staring at sister Vern, battling with herself. This was not much of a shock, in all honesty. Maisie had, for years now, wondered what loophole sister Vern would find to kick her out of the orphanage. However delighted she was at the prospect of being free from this miserable excuse of a home, there was just no way she would be able to find herself a place to live without any money to her name. And, despite this also being an inevitable fact, Maisie felt a painful stab in her chest at the thought of saying goodbye to Caspian forever. Nevertheless, she wasn't given much of a choice, anyway.

"I suppose this is farewell, then," Maisie said finally.

"Yes," sister Vern said, moving away from the front door that she blocked. "I imagine you've packed all your belongings."

"Yes, sister."

Without another word and look at her, sister Vern walked past Maisie and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Maisie completely lost as to what to do. It was so anti-climatic. After seventeen years in her care, sister Vern hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. Or forewarn her of this eviction. Not that they had ever had a stable or even healthy enough relationship to form any sort of obligations to each other, Maisie still felt like this was just extreme. Even for sister Vern.

Completely wrapped up in her own thoughts, Maisie forgot that she had been on her way, until Almud shifted in his cage, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

Telling herself that a solution to this new problem could be thought of later, Maisie hurried out the door and into the pouring rain. The gravel road underneath her feet was turning into mud, but she had no time to worry about dirty shoes as she hurried down the driveway. There was a bus stop just down the road from St. Angor's where, once in a blue moon, a bus would stop to take you into the nearby city. St. Angor's was located in the rural village of Little Hangleton, a village where nothing ever happened. Sister Vern, Maisie reckoned, loved just that about it.

Slightly out of breath, Maisie stopped at the bus stop and began to unbutton the maroon coat she was wearing. Tucked into the inner pocket of her coat was Maisie's wand that she, swiftly, grabbed and pointed at nothing in particular. The action being much like the one a muggle would do when hailing a taxi. Which, in Little Hangleton, was an insane thing to do — no taxis had ever even been to this part of England.

But it wasn't a bus Maisie was looking for, it was the vehicle of which that stopped right in front of her only seconds after raising her wand. The vehicle akin to a muggle bus opened its doors and out stepped a skinny, rather rat-looking young man. He didn't look a day older than twenty-five.

"Hogwarts again, innit?" Ernest Pearson grinned as he looked down at Maisie from the steps of the Knight Bus. He was wearing the custom purple suit, signifying his job as conductor.

"They seem to want me to graduate so they've welcomed me back for another year, yes," Maisie replied. Jumping down onto the ground, Ernest laughed, as he went to help her with her trunk.

"I reckon it's 'cause of yer charms," Ernest said and followed Maisie into the bus which, as soon as they were on it, sped off.

Perhaps because it was too early in the morning, or because it was a Saturday, the Knight Bus was relatively empty. Only Madame Humphries — an old woman who always smelled of firewhiskey and who seemed to never get off — and a nervous looking lad with purple hair was keeping Ernest, Maisie and the driver, Ernie, company so far.

"'Ello, love," Ernie greeted shortly without taking his eyes off the road.

"Hello, Ernie," Maisie greeted back before taking a seat near the front of the bus.

"So, how's it going, Mais?" Ernest asked as he, too, sat down.

Maisie's first time requiring the service of the Knight Bus had incidentally been Ernest's first day on the job. The two had struck up a friendship that, apparently, only needed two days of the year to maintain.

"Good, thank you for asking," she lied smoothly. "What about you?"

"Absolute shit," Ernest said without restrictions. "Millicent dumped me, mum won't take me in and they've stopped making me favourite flavour o' gum."

"That does sound rough," Maisie replied, placing Almud down on the seat beside her. "Why did Millicent break things off, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Don't worry about it," Ernest said, waving his hand dismissively. "Right, so, last week me and the lads were out celebrating the win against Bulgaria and this lass comes up to me and, out of nowhere, kisses me, right? _She_ kisses _me_. I tell Millicent about it when I come home because, well, she's me best friend, ain't she? I tell her everything. Anyway, she absolutely loses it, sending plates at me and yelling about how I'm this irresponsible wanker who can't even stop a drunk lass from throwing herself at me, and then, before I know what's hittin' me — other than her granny's old plates — she's telling me to get out and never speak to her again."

Maisie looked at him, slightly stunned at the story, before clearing her throat.

"Did you push the drunk woman away from you, or did you kiss her back?" Maisie asked, narrowing her eyes, a bit suspicious, at Ernest who rolled his eyes.

"I'm not, despite what me girlfriend thinks, a wanker, Mais. Of course I pushed her away."

"And you told Millicent this?"

"Yes," Ernest replied miserably, slumping in his seat. "She wouldn't listen to me. I don't understand, we've been together for six years now and, sure, I'm not the richest lad in all the land, but I've loved her unconditionally and been sure to make her know it, ya know?"

"Ernest," Maisie said slowly, tilting her head slightly. "Has there been anything else? Other than this incident, that could explain why she broke up with you?"

Ernest face became very pale as he stared at Maisie. "You don't think she… she's found some other lad, do ya?"

"No, no, no!" Maisie shook her head quickly. "That's not what I was thinking, I meant something more like her acting weird, or you doing something out of the ordinary."

"Oh," Ernest said, frowning. He seemed to think about it, but finally sighed defeatedly. "Not really, this took me completely by surprise. We haven't even fought at all in the last weeks — haven't really been able to, she's been a bit ill."

"How so?"

"It's nothing too serious. She's just stressed, we reckon, what with working at the Hog's Head and taking extra shifts at the ministry. Been throwing up sometimes, and has been sleeping longer than usual. I told her she should slow down, quit one of the jobs. It's not like we're _that_ poor, I mean."

"Ernest…" Maisie said, shifting in her seat apprehensively. "It sounds to me that she, erm, that she might be…"

"What?"

"Maybe she's pregnant?" Maisie blurted out, afraid to dip her nose where it didn't belong, yet not able to refrain herself.

By the look at Ernest shell-shocked expression, she figured she'd gotten her nose soaked.

"I-" Ernest seemed at loss for words.

"Or maybe not!" Maisie continued a bit desperately. She didn't want to be the reason Ernest got a stroke or worse. "Maybe it's something completely different, I don't know!"

A silence fell round them as Ernest stared blankly in front of him, completely occupied with the running thoughts in his head. Maisie sighed and sunk back into her seat, feeling like her mouth had definitely grown a few inches. After a while of passing through different towns, picking up more and more passengers (who were greeted by a pale and quiet Ernest), Maisie wondered if Ernest was ever going to find his voice again. The thought had not even passed through her head when Ernest opened his mouth.

"I think you're right, Mais," Ernest said, looking up at her. "It makes sense, doesn't it? The morning sickness, her mood… I _am_ a wanker, aren't I? So bloody stupid."

"Oh, no, Ernest, you're not," Maisie comforted and reached out to pat his shoulder.

"No wonder she went off like that," Ernest muttered. Then, as if just realizing it, Ernest's mouth stretched out in a wide, unexpected smile. "Hey, Mais... I'm going to be a father."

"Well, it could be something else, but-"

"Oi!" Ernest stood up from his seat and looked out across the passengers who were, uninterestedly, looking back at him. "I'm gonna be a dad!"

Too wrapped up in his own euphoria, Ernest ignored the unresponsive crowd he'd just shouted at and instead let out a hysteric laugh before he put his hands on his head, completely overwhelmed.

"London's next," Ernie said from behind the wheel.

"Thanks, Ernie," Maisie muttered, watching Ernest with worried eyes. "You alright?"

"I need to talk to Millicent," Ernest muttered to himself as he took a seat again. "Merlin, I don't even know what those wee bastards eat."

"You'll be fine," Maisie laughed, finding Ernest mixture of panic and happiness endearing.

"You think so? Honestly?" Ernest asked, giving her a hopeful yet unsure look.

"Honestly," Maisie said, meaning it. "Any child would be happy to have you as their father."

The bus suddenly came to an abrupt halt and Almud's cage rattled in its seat. Maisie stood up just as Ernest did and he enveloped her in an unexpected hug.

"You're invited to the baby shower," Ernest promised. "I'll write to McGonagall meself, if it's on a school day."

Maisie laughed, unsure whether or not he was serious. "Thanks, Ernest. I hope everything works out alright."

"It will," Ernest said, determinedly. "I'll make sure of it."

As he helped her with her trunk, Ernest gave Maisie another hug as he bid her farewell. A bit overwhelmed herself, Maisie waved goodbye and watched the Knight Bus speed off onto the next destination. Looking down at her wrist watch, Maisie noticed that the drive from Little Hangleton had taken longer than usual — as the clock turned thirty past eight, Maisie realized that she had to hurry if she wanted to get her school supplies _and_ make it to King's Cross in time.

Little did she know that missing the train back to Hogwarts was a worry miniscule compared to the worries the unexpected changes this year was going to cause her. The final year of Hogwarts was going to challenge Maisie in a way she had never been challenged before. In good, and in bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two: _You're Not My Friend_

With fifteen minutes before departure, Maisie arrived to King's Cross with her trunk full of the books needed for upcoming N.E.W.T-level classes. Having passed the O. surprisingly well two years ago— she'd gotten all O's and only one A, in Herbology — Maisie was in for yet another year of stress. She welcomed it, though, considering how she knew that being bored (which she'd experienced at St. Angor's and the muggle school she'd attended) was far worse.

King's Cross was packed with people. Witches and wizards in a hurry, as well as muggles — who were completely unaware of the people walking through the brick wall that was Platform 9 ¾ and disappearing into it. A certain buzz always ran across Maisie's spine when she arrived to King's Cross on the first of September. It was indescribable, the feeling.

"Oi! Watch it, dimwit!" a familiar voice cut through the noise of the train station.

Turning her head to the left, Maisie saw the person she had missed dearly since June — the person who, despite being viewed by many others as slightly _dramatic_ , was one of the few people Maisie trusted. Keera Johnson, her fellow Gryffindor and best friend, was in a very Keera-like manner shouting at a muggle who had pushed her and made her nearly lose her grip on her cage containing a sleeping rat.

"Yeah, that's right, walk away!" Keera continued to shout after the bald man who looked slightly afraid of the teenage girl. "Bloody rude."

"Keera," said a tall witch on her left disapprovingly. Maisie recognized the witch to be Keera's mother, Magdalena Johnson, who worked as an auror for the Ministry of Magic. "Could you perhaps not yell at the muggles?"

"I yelled at _one_ muggle, who, by the way, nearly pushed me over the tracks."

"Oh, he did not," Mrs. Johnson said, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, whatever, take his side," Keera huffed and turned her head.

Incidentally, the direction she turned her head was the same Maisie could be viewed in — which she, subsequently, was.

"MAIS!" Keera all but screamed, dropping the hold on her trunk and thrusting her turtle, Mustard, into her mother's arms, before running with all her might towards Maisie.

"Keera, wait, I'm holding—"

Maisie's attempts at bringing light to the cage and trunk she was holding failed, as Keera crashed into her. Almost falling over, Maisie coughed as Keera stole her breath by engulfing her in a tight hug.

"Bloody hell, Mais, I nearly didn't recognize you!" Keera squealed. "With boobs and hair you'll be forcing me to step up my game!"

Letting go of Maisie, Keera stepped back and grinned.

"Nice to see you, too," Maisie said, rolling her eyes much like Mrs. Johnson had only moments before.

"Did you hear?" Keera suddenly asked, her voice an octave higher, letting Maisie know that she had something exciting to tell.

"Depends, I've heard a lot," Maisie replied but Keera ignored the sarcasm.

"Hermione Granger is coming to Hogwarts!"

"Isn't she a bit old?"

"Oh, shut it!" Keera laughed, shaking her head. "Mum just told me that she's going to attend the feast tonight and, get this, _announce_ something mum's not allowed to tell me."

Keera's eyebrows rose up and down suggestively, and Maisie's curiosity peeked.

"I wonder what," Maisie frowned and Keera nodded gingerly.

"I reckon we're getting the Triwizard Tournament."

"Oh, they wouldn't do that, would they? The last time…"

"C'mon, Diggory didn't die because of the tournament, he died because the most evil wizard of all time came back to power, Mais."

"Still," Maisie said, shrugging apprehensively. "It's a bit dangerous, isn't it?"

"Everything is a bit dangerous if you have the right attitude, mate," Keera said with a glint in her eyes.

"Girls! You're going to miss the train!" Mrs. Johnson called and the two girls turned to see her waving them over.

"Coming, mum!"

Keera hurried to grab her trunk and turtle from her mother's arms and Maisie followed suit, giving Mrs. Johnson a shy smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Johnson."

"Hello, Maisie, dear," Mrs. Johnson replied with a recicorpal smile. "How was your summer?"

"Good, thank you, ma'am," Maisie answered politely. The woman had never intimidated Maisie nor caused her to feel like she wasn't liked — but Maisie had such a huge respect for Magdalena Johnson that she couldn't help but be on her best behaviour.

"Mum, we're going to find out anyway, why can't you just tell us a few hours in advance?" Keera whined.

"The train, Keera," Mrs. Johnson reminded sternly, but with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Whatever," Keera huffed and marched straight into the brick wall. Maisie followed closely behind.

"I hope the bloody hat won't sing for 37 years like he did last year," Keera said randomly as they looked out at the busy platform. "I'm hungry."

"It's not even noon, Keera," Maisie laughed.

"I'm just really craving shepard's pie, I don't know why."

"Girls," Mrs. Johnson repeated and they turned around to look up at her. The woman had a demanding presence, making most people stand up a little straighter when addressing her. "I want you to have a safe trip and an even safer year at Hogwarts."

"Way to be ominous, mum," Keera muttered.

"Write if there's anything on your mind," Maisie nodded because she felt Mrs. Johnson was talking to her since her eyes had been on Maisie. "And you, young lady, write to me every week or I'll send a howler."

"I'd like to see you try," Keera challenged. Mrs. Johnson raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Or perhaps not. Bye, mum! Love you!"

And with a quick peck on Mrs. Johnson's cheek, Keera hurried off towards the train.

"Bye," Maisie mumbled awkwardly to a smiling Mrs. Johnson.

"Bye, now, dear, take care of yourself, and preferably, my nut of a daughter."

Maisie smiled and nodded before turning around and heading after Keera.

It didn't take long to find an empty compartment — despite the train being only five minutes away from departing, many had not yet boarded.

"I can't believe she wouldn't tell me," Keera muttered bitterly as the two girls struggled to get their trunks up on the shelf.

"We'll find out soon enough, anyway," Maisie shrugged, though she couldn't deny that the curiosity that had developed made her slightly disappointed at Mrs. Johnson's secrecy.

"I hope it's something dramatic," Keera said, sighing as she slumped down onto the seat next to the window. Maisie took the seat opposite her, placing Almud on the table in front of her. "Something, hopefully, involving a shirtless James Potter."

As she found herself doing constantly in Keera's presence, Maisie rolled her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, come off it, don't pretend you wouldn't mind seeing _that_!" Keera argued.

"I don't know what your obsession with him is, but it's getting weird," Maisie said, unbuttoning her coat and taking it off.

"It's not an obsession," Keera defended. "It's an _appreciation_. I don't deny myself the pleasure of lusting, mind you. I feel no shame."

"Obviously," Maisie said, grinning.

"If anything, you're the one who's weird if you don't find James Potter attractive — anyone with eyes thinks so. It's merely a fact of life."

"Which is why I think people have deluded themselves and made him into something more than he is," Maisie explained. "Just because he's an alright quidditch player, doesn't mean he's Merlin's gift to humanity."

"Bloody hell, Mais, you do know how to hold onto a grudge, don't you?" Keera said, sounding almost impressed.

"I do not hold a grudge against James Potter," Maisie said, scoffing.

"Oh, you so do. Ever since he accidentally threw that mandrake at you in first year you've been nothing but negative towards him."

"It wasn't accidental," Maisie frowned. "He knew exactly what he was doing; he was trying to get laughs."

"He did get laughs," Keera chuckled, which earned her a glare.

"It wasn't funny. _He's_ not funny, just obnoxious."

"You're probably the only one who thinks that," Keera said.

"Who's obnoxious and why is Maisie the only one who knows it?" a voice asked and the girls turned to see a familiar boy with black hair and a colorful, bird-themed shirt.

"Let me take a wild guess," the tall, thin girl behind him said. "Does it rhyme with Lames Lotter?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" Keera exclaimed. "The lady in the back wins absolutely nothing, please come up and claim your price!"

"Can we not go ten minutes of not talking about that git?" Rai, whined and sat down next to Maisie. He looked genuinely disturbed at the conversation topic.

"What's wrong, Rai?" Keera asked in a faux-upset tone. "Not feeling like sitting as the chairman of the James Potter-fanclub for a seventh year in row?"

"Fuck off, Keera," Rai said, to which Keera smiled very pleased with herself.

"He's just mad about what happened at the World Cup," Zaïf explained and took a seat next to Keera.

"What?" Keera questioned, outraged. "You were rooting for Bulgaria, you traitor?"

"Don't be dim," Rai said moodily.

"Potter was snogging Felicity Blackburn at the afterparty," Zaïf explained.

"What!?" Keera exclaimed, looking shocked and yet also like a kid on Christmas. "Goddammit, I knew I should've skipped Paris."

"You really did miss out," Zaïf agreed. "Freddie Weasley hooked up with Danielle Finnigan, and apparently people saw Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy getting handsy."

"No _way!_ "

"I have my sources," Zaïf shrugged, pleased at Keera's obvious delight regarding the gossip.

"Can we _please_ not act like we're part of Kirsten Alley's possé, gossiping like 'who snogging who' actually matters? We're of age now, not children," Rai whined, covering his head with his arms as he rested it on the table.

"Don't take your anger out on us, Rai, just because your hero stole your girl," Keera said and patted Rai's had, which he tried to swap away.

"He's not my hero."

"I distinctly remember hearing you utter the words, verbatim: 'James Potter is my hero' after last year's quidditch final," Keera deadpanned and Rai replied with a not so friendly finger-gesture towards her.

"Leave him be," Maisie said. "You know he's liked Felicity since first year, give him a break."

"Oh, she's an idiot, Rai," Keera said, seemingly changing tactics from teasing Rai, to insulting the "enemy". "I sat behind her last year in Binns' class and she genuinely thought house elves were the same as goblins."

"You can do better," Zaïf added, also dropping the teasing.

"Whatever, I didn't even like her that much," Rai lied and straightened up.

"Sure," Keera said but Maisie shot her a look of warning. "Anyway, let's forget about _that_ — how was your summer?"

Maisie listened as Rai explained, in detail — which cheered him up immensely — what experiencing the Quidditch World Cup had felt like. After those thirty minutes, Zaïf told them about how she'd spent the beginning of the summer in Pakistan, visiting her grandmother who was convinced there was a dragon in her attic.

"Turns out a niffler had been occupying the attic — we found loads of the jewelry daadi's been missing since the 70s."

"I always wanted a niffler," Keera mused.

"Why?" Rai asked incredulously.

"For the exact reason Zaïf just told us — imagine all the cool shit you'd get."

"You mean steal," Rai corrected. "You do know that taking things without asking is called stealing."

Keera stuck her tongue out at his smart remark.

"How was your summer, Keera?" Maisie asked, trying to avoid another dispute.

"It was alright, I guess, "Keera shrugged. "My cousin's wedding was kind of cool — they'd flown in two unicorns — and Parisian boys are, well," she brought her hand up to pull down the collar of her polo, revealing two pretty sizable love bites.

"Legend," Zaïf nodded approvingly, whilst Rai pretended to gag.

"Oh," Maisie suddenly said, remembering their earlier discussion. "Tell them what you told me, about what your mum said."

"Right, I completely forgot!" Keera said, straightening in her seat.

"What?" Rai and Zaïd asked simutanelously.

Keera told them what she had told Maisie, which created a heated discussion about what on earth the announcement the Minister for Magic was going to make could possibly be about. It also created a smooth transition of subject, as Maisie had no desire to discuss her uneventful summer.

"I bet it's some kind of tournament," Rai mused, looking deeply concentrated — as if, if he just thought hard enough, the answer would come to him.

"Obviously it is," Keera said confidently. "I'm willing to bet my wand it's the Triwizard Tournament."

"Too dangerous," Zaïf said and Maisie smiled, which caused Keera to scoff.

"No, it's not, it's awesome," Keera argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's life-threatening," Maisie pointed out.

"Yeah, I think it's like a new law or something," Zaïf said. "Something boring."

"I'll jump out of the Gryffindor tower if it is," Keera said seriously, looking downright miserable.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" a voice interrupted and the compartment's attention went straight to the trolley lady and all her snacks.

As the train came to a halt, two sides of the announcement-debate had been created. The side — consisting of Rai and Keera — who were sure Hermione Granger was going to announce the Triwizard Tournament; and then the side — consisting of Maisie and Zaïf — who were convinced they were about to hear the announcement of a new law. As they stepped outside into the foggy evening, the foursome was trying to settle on what the reward should be.

"Year supply of chocolate frogs?" Keera suggested.

"Don't care for them," Zaïf said uninterestedly. "I want my money's worth — our first homework assignment done for us."

"Oh, I'm with Zaïf on that," Rai nodded greedily.

"Maisie?" Keera asked.

"Sure, I'm fine with that," Maisie said as she tried to lead their group towards the thestrals.

"Alright, first homework assignment made for both individuals it is," Keera said and stretched her hand out for everyone to shake.

" _Oi_! Freddie!" a voice called out that rang familiar in Maisie's ears. "Don't be twat!"

Turning her head, Maisie watched as James Potter chased his cousin, Freddie Weasley, through the crowds of students watching with her. Apparently, Freddie Weasley had stolen the pin from Gryffindor's newly appointed Head Boy and James Potter was, whilst laughing, trying to get it back.

"I'll bloody well hex you, you arse!" James threatened.

"Oh, no!" Freddie Weasley exclaimed, trying to contain his laughter. "Now you've _frightened_ me out of my wits, you naughty, _naughty_ boy"

People erupted in gasps and squeals as James Potter made good on his promise and sent a Jelly-Legs curse Freddie Weasley's way. Cheers and applause erupted as James, smugly, stepped over his cousin and, without any further ado, reclaimed his Head Boy pin.

"Ridiculous," Maisie mumbled under her breath, wondering how on earth professor McGonagall could have, with a clear conscience, named James Potter Head Boy.

"Ridiculously charming," Keera added on, bumping her shoulder with Maisie's.

"He's supposed to set a good example," Maisie frowned as they climbed on board the carriages.

"He is," Keera claimed. "A good example of being absolutely gorgeous."

"Maisie's right," Zaïf said with a shrug. "No one else would have gotten away with something like that. It's all about nepotism with this place."

"This place wouldn't even exist if it hadn't been for his father, I reckon he can cast a few Jelly-Legs curses if he wants to," Keera said.

"You shouldn't judge or praise a person just because of their parent," Maisie said.

"Alright — then I'll judge and praise him on the basis of him winning us the Quidditch cup for the last five years," Keera countered.

"Honestly," Rai huffed. "Marry the lad already."

"Hey!" Keera exclaimed, punching his shoulder. "That's _my_ line reserved to _you_! I'm just defending the guy because I'm doing work for two, now that you've left the ship."

"Can we please stop talking about him?" Maisie asked, sighing heavily and looking out over the crowds of students who had still not found themselves a carriage.

As her gaze swept the crowds, she found herself slightly startled when her eyes met a pair of brown ones already looking at her. James Potter was staring at her from across the crowd of people, and when she found his gaze he grinned and lifted his hand in a ridiculous wave. Narrowing her eyes at him, Maisie pointedly looked away and did not reciprocate the gesture.

"Did James Potter just wave at you?" Keera asked breathlessly, with a stunned expression on her face.

"No, he was waving at someone else," Maisie muttered, her mood having dropped significantly.

"I told you he fancied you!" Keera said, now slapping Maisie's arm — but this time in excitement.

"A wave doesn't not equal him fancying me."

"So you admit he waved at you," Zaïf noted, but before Maisie could deny it Keera was already talking.

"Oh, it's not just the wave, and you know it! Ever since last year when you guys got paired in Defence against the Dark Arts he's been trying to hook up with you!"

"He has not," Maisie said, actually snapping. "We've barely even spoken to each other."

"You mean, _you_ have barely even spoken to him. I've seen him try to talk to you multiple times," Keera said with a knowing smile. "Admit it, he fancies you."

"How would I know?" Maisie said, crossing her arms irritably, "It doesn't matter, anyway."

"You've got to be kidding me," Keera gasped. "The only shot for us to be invited to the cool parties and you're messing it up because you don't _care?!_ "

"Keera," Zaïf said, frowning. "She obviously doesn't want to talk about this.

"But-"

"No, let's just drop it," Zaïf said, and a silent ride up to the castle ensued.

Maisie hadn't meant to lose her temper, but she found that the subject of James Potter was far too annoying not to. It never had been that much of a problem, until last year. Her dislike for the Gryffindor golden boy had been quiet and private. But ever since last year, when the lad began annoying her directly, it's been a sore subject.

She knew, unlike Keera, that James Potter did not fancy her. He only enjoyed teasing her and probably found it more pleasing knowing that she did not particularly like him as much as everyone else did. Her dislike had began in the first year at Hogwarts when, of course, he threw the mandrake at her in order to get some laughs and establish himself as the class clown. It was from then on, Maisie saw him in a different light than everyone else seemed to see him — as the obnoxious, self-centered git that he was. Her patience had been tested last year when Professor Shacklebolt paired the two together in order to practice the patronus charm.

She remembered the first lesson as the worst one she'd ever had.

" _It's easy, really," James claimed after her fifth failed attempt. She hated failing, even more so in front of people. "Just concentrate on a happy memory — my face or something — and just-_ Expecto Patronum _!"_

 _A beautiful and perfectly corporal lion appeared from the tip of his wand, causing another round of applause to erupt in the classroom as the lion ran around her. The only one not clapping was Maisie. Even professor Shacklebolt, who had applauded the first time he'd done it, clapped._

" _Great advice, thanks," Maisie said, not at all grateful or impressed._

" _Oh, come on, Lind, don't be upset — it's perfectly alright to not get it the first couple of times," James assured her, misunderstanding where her annoyance was directed._

" _Professor Shacklebolt," Maisie called, raising her hand and turning away from James. Crossing the room, professor Shacklebolt, a tall man who once had been the Minister for Magic before settling down as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head._

" _Yes, Miss Lind?"_

" _Could I— Sir, perhaps I could switch partners?" she suggested hopefully. "I mean, I'm not at the same level as Potter, so perhaps I could get someone else who I'm more compatible with?"_

 _Professor Shacklebolt chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, Miss Lind, no one's on his level. Yet. Give it a few more goes and I'm sure you'll get results."_

 _He walked off, leaving Maisie disappointed. Turning around with a frustrated sigh, Maisie came to face a shocked James._

" _What was that all about?" he asked outraged._

 __" _What did it seem like it was about?" Maisie asked, causing James to furrow his eyebrows deeply. He looked like a confused puppy._

" _Are you mad at me?"_

" _Of course not."_

 _James frowned deeper, narrowing his eyes at her. "Then why do you want to switch partners? I don't get it."_

" _I just felt like someone else would benefit more from having you as their partner," Maisie answered patiently, turning away from him and, once again, giving the spell another go. Failing._

" _Why? Shacklebolt himself said it wouldn't matter, no one is at my level yet."_

" _I'm sure they're not," Maisie muttered under her breath, trying to block him out._

" _What's that supposed to mean?" James asked, stepping in front of her and breaking her concentration._

 __" _It means, I don't think anyone in here except for you would stoop to the level of throwing mandrakes at innocent children just for laughs," Maisie blurted out, her limit being reached._

 _To her surprise, James didn't look offended. He looked very, very amused._

" _Are you still mad about that, Mais?" he laughed, his dimples putting on a show._

" _Don't call me that," Maisie said, turning away from him again to have another go at the Patronus charm._

" _Oh, come on, that was_ ages _ago — I'm fairly certain I apologized, too," James said, once again stepping in front of her._

" _You didn't," Maisie snapped._

 _Sighing, with a smile on his lips, James looked straight into her eyes and said, "Alright, I'm sorry, Mais. I didn't mean to throw a mandrake at you when were were eleven years old. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, after all these years?"_

 _Without hesitation, Maisie replied: "No."_

" _What?!" James laughed, half offended, half amused. "What do you mean, 'no', I apologized!"_

" _It wasn't just that!" Maisie snapped and then closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. "It doesn't matter, let's just drop it, alright?"_

" _No, I want to know why you're so mad at me," James insisted._

" _Drop it."_

" _No, tell me," James urged. "I can't think of a single thing I've done to you to make you so angry. I've been nothing but a gentleman."_

" _A gentleman?" Maisie almost exploded. "You nearly set my hair on fire, you took my chocolate frog, you- you almost flew straight into me during flying lessons!"_

 _James stared at her as if she was crazy._

" _I didn't do any of those things on purpose or in bad intent!" James argued, raising his voice a bit._

" _Oh?_ Oh _?" Maisie raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "So what was nearly setting my hair on fire? Accident or in good intent?"_

" _Obviously an accident, c'mon," James rolled his eyes._

" _You literally said: 'Freddie, look at this!' and then shot some kind of hex at me!" Maisie hissed, trying to keep her voice down so they wouldn't attract attention._

" _I remember that!" James blurted, looking like he'd just had a revelation. "Wait, yeah, no, that_ was _an accident. I was aiming at Scorpius, not you — I wouldn't do that to you, Mais, I promise."_

" _Stop calling me that, you're not my friend!" Maisie albeit shouted, finally attracting some curious eyes._

" _Oh, don't be mad at me, I've said I'm sorry," James said, although that amused smile was still present which rendered his excuse useless._

" _I don't care, I don't want to be your friend or have you as my partner" Maisie muttered and decided that if she couldn't get another partner, she would be forced to do the only thing she could come up with: pretend she didn't have one. In other words, the cold shoulder was established_.

"We're here," Zaïf said, breaking Maisie out of her sullen thoughts.

Looking up, Maisie decided to let any thoughts of James Potter as well as her dark mood escape her. For as she looked at the only place she could, without any trace of doubt, call home, everything seemed to be alright again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three: _Sorting It All Out_

" _Ravenclaw_!"

The Great Hall exploded in cheers as Engelbert Quinto, the last of the first years, was sorted into the House of Wit. Even the other houses cheered, more so to display how _desperately_ hungry they all were. Maisie was somewhere in between.

" _Finally_ ," Keera muttered as she watched the table greedily, waiting for the display of various, deliciously made food to appear. "I am beyond ready."

"To be honest," Rai voiced, sounding pensive. "I'm still confused as to the Sorting Hat placing you in Gryffindor, Mais. You're a spot on Ravenclaw, what with knowing everything there is to know."

Zaïf frowned at Rai, as Maisie tried to not take it personally. He hadn't meant it in a mean way, Maisie told herself. He had just, in an attempt at being nice, told her that she did not belong with them.

"Oi, what the fuck, Rai?" Zaïf barked, causing Rai to look up with the eyes of someone trapped in a corner. "Maisie belongs in Gryffindor more than anyone I know — you're the one who should've been sorted into the bloody streets, ya git."

"No, I- Maisie, I didn't mean it like _that_ , I just—" Rai babbled desperately but he was cut off before he could apologize. Maisie avoided his gaze.

"Students," a voice rang out and the buzz amongst the students died out quickly. Even Keera did not dare to whine when professor McGonagall held the floor. Rai looked borderline relieved, yet also very anxious. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! And to all of you first years; welcome to our school for the very first time."

McGonagall's hawk-eyes were dancing across the room and one could see the effect her gaze had on the crowd; every person to meet her eyes straightened up in their seats.

"Another welcome, this evening, must be directed at one of Hogwarts' finest to ever set foot in its halls — Mrs. Granger, please," McGonagall had turned towards the woman seated next to her and beckoned her to stand up.

The Minister for Magic was a relatively young woman whom Maisie had read countless of books about. Despite her own rule to never put anyone on a pedestal, Maisie had a hard time ignoring the awe Hermione Granger brought forth inside her. The minister was one of very few people Maisie respected and looked up to.

"Good evening, Hogwarts," Hermione Granger greeted with a soft smile, as if she was looking out at a crowd of friends. "I must say, being back here and seeing all of your faces really do bring a certain warmth to my heart. I remember my first day among my fellow witches and wizards — how eager I was to learn everything there was about magic and how, at the same time, scared beyond measure I was. To all of you first years here tonight, who are feeling the knot in your stomach at the prospect of what this year will bring — do not worry. You will find your place, and your friends, soon enough."

Maisie looked over at Gryffindor's newly joined first years and observed faces who mimicked each other as they listened to their minister — admiration and comfort, but above all; trust. Without being able to help herself, Maisie suddenly visualised an older self looking down at faces who mirrored the same expressions Hermione Granger conjured.

"Now, I'm not only here to welcome you all to Hogwarts, but I also have an announcement to make that I think you all will find of high interest."

Granger could not hold back a smile as the students erupted in whispers.

"Here it comes," Zaïf muttered.

"At this point she can announce whatever the bloody hell she wants, all I want is my dinner," Keera whined and looked impatiently up at the long table where all the professors were seated.

"I'm proud to announce that this year, Hogwarts will be both participating as well as hosting the very first Quidditch School World Cup!"

Gasps and shocked "whats" could be heard across the room and Maisie and her friends looked at each other, quite bemused.

"What the ruddy hell is a _Quidditch School World Cup_?" a voice shouted and people looked over to see Freddie Weasley almost standing on his seat in order to question the minister who, also, happened to be his aunt.

"Language," Granger chastised with a stern frown and laughs echoed throughout the hall. "And I'm here to inform you about it, so please hold your questions for later — no matter how impatient of a person you are."

Freddie Weasley, laughing along with the rest of the hall, did seem to become a bit red on his cheeks, Maisie observed. James Potter dragged him down onto his seat again and slapped the back of his head.

"As I was saying, we- _Hogwarts_ will be the host of the very first international Quidditch tournament between our fellow wizarding schools, so a great burden has been placed on everyone here tonight to make sure you do us all proud and be the humble and great host we all know you can be," Maisie did not miss the fleeting look the minister directed at her two nephews, James and Freddie.

"The tournament will consist of eight teams representing the eight wizarding schools who are participating in this tournament; Hogwarts, of course, Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, Castelobruxo, Durmstrang, Mahoutokoro, Koldovstoretz, and Uagadou. The play offs will be held on the following dates; the 9th, 10th, 16th and 17th of December; the 17th and 18th of February; and, the final, the 13th of May."

Maisie had never experienced the Great Hall so… electrified before. It sounded like hundreds of bees buzzing round the hall, due to the excited whispers echoing off the walls. It was thrilling — even Maisie thought so. By the way Hermione Granger looked at the crowd with a hint of a smirk, Granger found the atmosphere just as exciting as Maisie did.

"During the six months this tournament will be going on, our guest shall be staying here — which will be a total of fourteen players from each school and one teacher, ergo 120 guests who will be in need of a warm welcome from all of us. And, as you may observe later, another _temporary_ Quidditch field has been set up in order to allow every team the chance to practice more efficiently."

"Every school shall be holding tryouts in september to determine which players shall represent the school's quidditch team — this means that anyone willing and able, no matter house, is eligble to try-out for Hogwarts' quidditch team. You must, however, be at least thirteen-" shouts of protest was heard. "In order to qualify as a team member for this school. Since the first game shall be played on the 9th of december, we will be welcoming our guests on the 31st of October, in order for each team to be allowed to train on our fields and get a feel of our environment. A Halloween ball shall be held in honor of their arrival."

"And it is with these exciting news I shall and must thank you for welcoming me here tonight and, professor McGonagall, would you like to say some final words?"

Professor McGonagall stood up once more and nodded to Granger, giving her a rare smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger, now," the headmistress turned her attention to the riled up students and stretched her arms out. "Let's begin the feast!"

However, not even Keera was interested in the food anymore.

"I can't believe this!" Zaïf blurted out, a phrase that could be heard from many other mouths just at that moment.

"Potter's surely gonna qualify, Weasley too, probably," Keera contemplated loudly, looking over at the two lads in question. Maisie followed her friend's gaze, despite herself.

A flock of students had gathered round the two boys who looked — not surprising Maisie one bit — as if they had just been crowned kings. They were both grinning and nodding in agreement with whatever their admirers were saying. Maisie let out a frustrated scoff.

"I can't believe the ministry just gave the two most egoistic people walking this earth even more reason to believe their own hype," Maisie all but grunted, piling up a mountain of mashed potatoes on her plate. "Their heads will surely explode this time."

"It's not decided if they're even on the team, yet, didn't you hear Granger? They're going to have try-outs," Rai said, stabbing his steak as if it had done him evil.

"Yeah, I'm really holding my breath," Keera snorted, causing Zaïf to chuckle along with her. "C'mon, I'll sooner be snogging Merlin than seeing the day Freddie Weasley and James Potter are denied access to a quidditch team."

Rai, as well as Maisie, were reluctant to actually agree with Keera. However, deep down they knew, as well as everyone else, that there was no other outcome. It was rather ridiculous to assume that the two lads — one of them captain of a team he'd led to glory five times — wouldn't be drafted.

"I wonder who _will_ be trying-out," Maisie said, trying to shift the focus off of Weasley and Potter. "All houses are allowed to… that'll be interesting, won't it? To see the houses forced to unite."

"Oh, Merlin, I hadn't even thought of that," Keera said and her eyes widened with glee. "Slytherin and Gryffindor, on the same team… it can only end dramatically."

Keera, unlike any other sane person, did not sound worried about the prospect of conflicts — rather, she sounded excited.

"I wonder where they'll stay, the other schools," Zaïf wondered.

"I read that during the last Triwizard Tournament they stayed in their own place here on the grounds — the Durmstrangs even had a ship with them, so probably something similar to that," Maisie fun-facted, but Keera wasn't interested in that suggestion.

"They've got to stay _here_ , in the castle! They can't camp outside in the middle of winter! Besides, we can be _very_ welcoming," Keera argued. "I'll light the fire, put on some tunes — make 'em feel right at home."

"Can you ever not be on the hunt?" Rai asked Keera, causing Zaïf and Maisie to laugh whilst Keera simply grinned.

"All I'm saying is," Keera continued. "My bed is always open if it helps create more international unity between us young witches and wizards."

"I think the Ministry's looking for international unity, not international relationships," Zaïf pointed out to deaf ears.

As Maisie looked at her friends — finally the feeling of _home_ had settled over her — she remembered that all of them were actually quite into Quidditch; even _playing_ the game rather well. She, herself, had never fallen for it — it was a bit too violent — but she had seen the sparkle in their eyes enough times to know that Quidditch meant a lot to them. Zaïf had even been a chaser in fourth year, so she felt that asking them about it was justified.

"Are any of you thinking about trying out?"

Their reactions were almost comical — wide eyes, jaws dropped and absolute shock dripping off of them.

"What?" Maisie asked with a frown, and the trio burst out laughing.

"You're joking, right?" Keera asked, looking at her skeptically.

"Why would I be?" Maisie asked a bit defensively. "I mean, you're all decent players and you've been talking about the World Cup all summer… Why wouldn't you try out?"

"Maisie," Rai said. "We _are_ decent players — but we're not on any tournament level. You want Hogwarts to win, right?"

"Besides," Zaïf added. "I quit Quidditch because it was too straining on my studies; I imagine a bloody world cup would be annihilating to my education."

"I'd do better to try out as a bloody house elf," Rai snorted, rolling his eyes.

Maisie did not enjoy how they all laughed at her. Not because it felt like a blow to her ego, but because they were so convinced they weren't good enough. Sure, they weren't on any of the _top_ players' level, but they still had a shot — especially if they trained a bit and beacme more confident in themselves and their abilities. It was exactly for reasons like these that Maisie had a hard time actually enjoying the sport, because there were too many political motives and power structures behind it all. People were too focused on winning than on playing a good, fair game that meant having fun.

"Alright, alright," Maisie muttered, crossing her arms and frowning. "Sorry, I just thought I'd ask."

"No, don't apologize, Maisie, we just—" Rai began but was cut off by Keera.

" _Oh my Merlin_ ," Keera suddenly said, staring at something over Zaïf's head. "Scorpius Malfoy just winked at Rose Weasley!"

Completely forgetting about Quidditch, they all turned to look at Keera incredulously — who didn't notice her friends' looks. She just continued to stare, mesmerized, at the fourth years' interaction as if watching a film. The randomness of the moment did not escape Maisie.

"Keera," Maisie sighed, frowning at her friend. "Will you cut it out? You're spying on fourth years."

"I'm spying on the two most dramatic people in this school, Maisie. It would be a crime not to be interested," Keera reasoned before lowering her voice, smirking. "I hope they catch them."

And with _they_ , Keera meant the Potter/Weasley clan. Maisie could not help but roll her eyes at her friend's ridiculousness.

"Honestly, Keera," Zaïf chuckled. "You're becoming somewhat of a stalker in the quest for drama."

"I'm not a stalker!" Keera gasped, looking quite offended. "I'm an _observer_ , there's a difference."

"I bet your victims wouldn't see the difference," Rai laughed, finishing his pumpkin pasty and wiping his hands on his robes.

"Oh, fuck off, will you? What I'm doing is completely sane, everyone else is doing it, too."

"Spying?" Zaïf asked innocently, raising her perfect eyebrow.

" _Observing_ , come on, it's like you're not even listening."

"McGonagall's about to say something," Maisie interrupted them, nodding towards the teachers' table where the headmistress had just risen from her seat. Keera reluctantly dropped their argument, but not before crossing her arms over her chest and shooting a deadly glare at Zaïf and Rai.

"Students," McGonagall said, her voice cutting through conversations. "It's time for bed — prefects, please gather the first years and prepare them for the tour. To all, do have a good night and don't forget that classes begin tomorrow — make use of the night's hours and get as much sleep as you can."

Chairs scraped on the stone floor and the Great Hall immediately began to empty.

"I'm not a stalker," Keera muttered as the four of them headed towards the exits. Clearly, the trio had hit one of Keera's many nerves.

"Sure, you're not," Rai said, not very convincingly. "Your behaviour is completely normal and not at all creepy."

Maisie watched as Keera narrowed her eyes and, without hesitation, stretched her arms out and, with as much force as she could muster, pushed Rai… as if they had lost five years of their lives and turned back into twelve year olds.

"Oi!" Rai exclaimed, losing his balance and, while waving his arms, managed to push Maisie as well. Due to Rai being a head taller than Maisie — as well as having quite a bit more body mass — Maisie went down without much ado. She let out a surprised squeak and braced for the pain of hitting the stone floor. Which, surprisingly, did not come. Instead, Maisie found herself having two arms wrap around her waist, catching her easily as if she had been thrown into one of Keera's sappy romance novels.

"Whoa there, Lind," a familiar voice chuckled as Maisie struggled to get to her feet. _This is not happening_ , Maisie lied to herself. _This is a nightmare and I'm about to wake up._ "You alright?"

Turning around, Maisie came face to face with a grinning James Potter who was watching her with an amused sparkle in his eyes. People were watching them with interest and she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Preferably, right at that second.

"Yes," she replied, curtly, looking away from his eyes and feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Thank you."

James did not get a chance to say anything else, for Maisie had already grabbed Keera's arm and rushed off, practically running for her life. Ignoring her friends' laughs over what had been one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, Maise began to plan a move to another country. Or continent. Either was fine, as long as she never had to face James Potter again. Not after that stunt.

"That was literally," Keera said as they reached the Gryffindor tower. They were one of the first ones there. "The beginning of an epic romance."

"If any of you mentions this, I'll never speak to you ever again," Maisie threatened under her breath, placing her hands over her warm cheeks. She was never going to live that down.

"So I'm guessing I should just _not_ mention it in your wedding toast, huh?" Keera inquired, tilting her head.

"I hate you all," Maisie muttered to the sound of her friends laughing themselves breathless.

It was going to be a long year.


End file.
